"Shifty" by Chuck Yeager

Subject: "Shifty" By Chuck Yeager Notice at the end how many medals and decorations Shifty was awarded!!!!!!!!!!!! "Shifty" By Chuck Yeager SHIFTY DIED JAN 17, 2011..........rest in peace. "Shifty" By Chuck Yeager Shifty volunteered for the airborne in WWII and served with Easy Company of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, part of the 101st Airborne Infantry. If you've seen Band of Brothers on HBO or the History Channel, you know Shifty. His character appears in all 10 episodes, and Shifty himself is interviewed in several of them.. I met Shifty in the Philadelphia airport several years ago. I didn't know who he was at the time. I just saw an elderly gentleman having trouble reading his ticket. I offered to help, assured him that he was at the right gate, and noticed the "Screaming Eagle," the symbol of the 101st Airborne, on his hat. Making conversation, I asked him if he d been in the 101st Airborne or if his son was serving. He said quietly that he had been in the 101st. I thanked him for his service, then asked him when he served, and how many jumps he made. Quietly and humbly, he said "Well, I guess I signed up in 1941 or so, and was in until sometime in 1945 ... " at which point my heart skipped. At that point, again, very humbly, he said "I made the 5 training jumps at Toccoa, and then jumped into Normandy . . . do you know where Normandy is?" At this point my heart stopped. I told him "yes, I know exactly where Normandy is, and I know what D-Day was." At that point he said "I also made a second jump into Holland , into Arnhem ." I was standing with a genuine war hero .... and then I realized that it was June, just after the anniversary of D-Day. I asked Shifty if he was on his way back from France , and he said "Yes... And it ' s real sad because, these days, so few of the guys are left, and those that are, lots of them can't make the trip." My heart was in my throat and I didn't know what to say. I helped Shifty get onto the plane and then realized he was back in Coach while I was in First Class. I sent the flight attendant back to get him and said that I wanted to switch seats. When Shifty came forward, I got up out of the seat and told him I wanted him to have it, that I'd take his in coach. He said "No, son, you enjoy that seat. Just knowing that there are still some who remember what we did and who still care is enough to make an old man very happy." His eyes were filling up as he said it. And mine are brimming up now as I write this. Shifty died on Jan. l7 after fighting cancer. There was no parade. No big event in Staples Center .. No wall to wall back to back 24x7 news coverage. No weeping fans on television. And that's not right!! Let's give Shifty his own Memorial Service, online, in our own quiet way. Please forward this email to everyone you know. Especially to the veterans. Rest in peace, Shifty. Chuck Yeager, Maj Gen. [ret.]

P.S. I think that it is amazing how the "media" chooses our "heroes" these days... Michael Jackson, Charlie Sheen, Lindsey Lohan & the like that don't deserve one second of air time or our attention!

My Brother-in-law sent me this-thought it was good enough to repost

"We Shall Not Tarry Long On This Hill."

One constant in the old western movies the cemetery is called "Boot Hill." Usually this is a small barren hill just outside of town. In this place some graves are marked with wood or simple stone and some are not marked at all. It is a place were all men are equal, rich and poor alike find their final resting place side by side. Such is also the case today, "dust to dust and ashes to ashes" or as Wordsworth put it, "from dust thou art, to dust returnth was not written of the soul."

My experience preaching throughout West Texas has shown me that the truth is much like the fiction of these movies. It is common that cemeteries are found on a small hill just outside of town. They tend to be lonely barren places with stone markers row upon row, yet even today some are unmarked. These places are quiet except the wind rustling in the leaves and grass. The sad haunting song that sings our names, echoing eerily upon the gentle breeze.

It was then on a cold wintry West Texas day that our story takes place. A day when the cold wind cuts through you like a knife through butter. A frigid wind like a spear hurled by the hand of some ancient, mythic warrior that pierces your very soul. In Aspermont, Texas I prepared for the funeral service of the father of a dear friend. A man nick named “Gimp” a rough-neck, life long oil patch worker who had drilled his last well and brought in his last barrel of crude. We awaited the slow procession, a single line of cars, winding, twisting its way out of town to that place on the hill just outside of town. A parade led as was only fitting by a Cadillac Coach. His son had some final words of advice for me as we reached that lonely hillside just outside of town.

Don turned to me and said, "Bob remember, we shall not tarry long on this hill!" Words of wisdom that have served me well for these many years. Don Mullis, you are a wise and good man, and I thank you.

Bob Phillips